Chapter 6 #2
“We’re working on a plan to evacuate a high-value target from the Shaw estate,” he said. “We were hoping you would lend several of your fighters to the effort—”
Maerin cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I don’t lend my fighters to people who lie to me.”
Finn’s brow furrowed. “I’m not lying to you.”
“You’re conveniently leaving out the fact that this high-value target is Araya Starwind.” Her gaze flicked to Loren. “Bond to Jaxon Shaw.”
The shadows hissed, the temperature in the room plummeting.
“Don’t call her that,” Loren said through gritted teeth. “She doesn’t belong to him.”
“My apologies.” Maerin leaned back in her chair, studying the seething darkness with an unreadable expression. “She’s your mate, isn’t she? I’m not well-versed in fae law, but doesn’t that make her your queen?”
“Yes.” Loren squeezed his hands into fists, nails biting into his palms. “That’s why it’s so important that we get her back—”
Maerin lifted a hand, cutting him off. “I’m not unsympathetic,” she said quietly. “But the kind of attention that would bring down on us?” She shook her head slowly. “Why should I risk it?”
Finn shot Loren a warning look. “Maerin,” he started, his voice careful. “Surely there’s something we can offer—”
“I could make you do it,” Loren said, the words bitter on his tongue even as they spilled from his lips.
The shadows bristled at his back, speaking over each other in a chorus of seething condemnation.
Who was he to demand they risk their lives for him?
But the Shaws had his mate. He had to do everything he could to get her back. “I’m your king—”
Maerin laughed in his face.
“You are not my king,” she said. “Oh, I’m sure you could kill me. But that doesn’t grant you the authority to command my people.”
“My people,” Loren growled. “Dara’el chose me.” Even if they’d made a mistake, there was no undoing it now.
“And?” Maerin challenged. “I was sixteen when the Arcanum overthrew your family. Old enough to fall asleep at night praying to the Absent Goddess that your father would come with his shadows and save us all. After he died, I prayed you would come.” She shook her head. “But you never did.”
“He was a prisoner.” Finn shot Loren a desperate look, trying to regain control of the situation. “The Arcanum kept him underground and in iron for twenty-five years—”
“I don’t care,” Maerin said plainly. “None of that changes what happened to me. Did you know that Maya is my third child? The first the Arcanum didn’t steal from my arms. She’s too fae for a human family to want her.”
Loren opened his mouth—then closed it again. He had no answer. No justification that wouldn’t be just another excuse. The shadows wavered behind him, drawing in close to his legs.
“I’m not looking for sympathy or apologies,” Maerin continued. “But my story is not unique. The fae here aren’t going to follow you because some ancient magic they’ve never heard of chose you to lead. If you want them to fight for you, you’ll have to fight for them.”
Loren’s heart sank. She wasn’t wrong—he owed them something. Dara’el had chosen him to protect the fae, and he had failed. But he couldn’t put them first right now—not like she wanted him to. Not with Araya in Jaxon Shaw’s clutches.
Finn was the one to break the silence.
“Come on, Maerin,” he said, his voice clipped. “You didn’t make me drag him all the way across Farhallow just to tell us no.”
“Finn—” Loren started, horrified. After everything she’d just laid bare—how could he be so callous?
“No.” His friend shook his head sharply. “She’s wanted to strike a blow against the Shaws for a very long time. She just wanted to watch you squirm first.” He turned back to Maerin, glaring at her. “Tell us what you want.”
“Control of the operation,” she said immediately. “My fighters, my rules. You can provide input, but I make the plan and I call the shots.”
Loren stared at Maerin, the old guilt she’d stirred up a raw wound in his pride. “Absolutely not,” he said. “After what you just did? I’m not handing her rescue over to someone who doesn’t know her—doesn’t care about her—”
“That’s exactly why you should hand it over,” Maerin said. “This is too important to you. You’re going to get people killed.” Her smile turned brittle. “Trust me. I would know.”
The shadows hissed, Maerin’s words grating on his already fragile control.
They lashed his legs, muttering and fuming at the disrespect.
Loren clenched his jaw, holding them back through sheer force of will.
Maerin might not realize it, but she was about to get people killed here. If he lost control of the shadows—
“We can coordinate with you,” Finn offered. “But final call on decisions involving his mate goes to Loren. That’s more than fair.”
Maerin shook her head.
“I’ve been running operations in this city for eleven years.” Her violet gaze landed on Loren. “I promise, my people hate the Shaws as much as you do. We can get you in. You just need to let us do it our way.”
Loren closed his eyes, willing dara’el to understand. There was no other way. They needed those fighters.
“Fine,” he said, cutting off Finn’s argument. “Your people. Your plan.”
“Good.” Maerin stood, extending her hand across the desk. “Shake on it, Shadowbane?”
Loren stared at her hand. “Most people call me Loren. Or Your Majesty.”
Maerin threw back her head, a real laugh spilling from her lips. “Don’t hold your breath, Shadowbane.”